Crying Lightning
by collectcall
Summary: In which a little game of daring between two friends can make their whole senior year a chaotic ride: "Make Zachary Goode fall in love with you."/"He's not the type to 'fall in love', though." It's a sport where everyone but the broken-hearted can win. AU
1. outside by the cracker factory

**hi :) i've wanted to write something with this plot for a while; hopefully it's not horrible. to get a few things out of the way, cam and zach are spies, but gallagher is co-ed. preston and cammie are best friends, and cammie isn't a chameleon anymore. as for the rest of the changes, you will have to find out yourself ;) hope you like it.  
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><p>::<p>

_your past-times  
>consisted of a strange, twisted and deranged<br>& i love that little game you have called  
>'crying lightning'<em>

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><p><em><strong>[ - senior's common room; before breakfast - ]<strong>_

"So, what's the verdict, P?" Cameron Morgan asked, placing herself on the arm of the chair her best friend was occupying and peering at the book he was studying. "First day of school, we better do it now. Do my eyes deceive me, or is the title of that chapter _Pick-Up Lines: When To Use Them_?"

Preston Winters snapped the book shut and stuffed it into his bag as Cammie collapsed into a fit of laughter, throwing her hair back and closing her eyes, causing every single guy in the room to gaze at her with slight longing (if they weren't already.) "Piss off," he told her. "It was a gift."

Cammie ignored him and pulled the book back out of his school bag, looking at the title. "_10 Easy Steps From Zero to Hero, A Guide To Charming Women_—oh, that's a lovely picture that doesn't objectify females _at all,_" Cammie remarked, looking disgusted and dropping the book back on the table.

Preston grabbed it protectively while scoffing at Cammie's comment. "Honestly, Cam, if you think that's bad, you should hear Tony and his pals talking in the locker room. You'd probably stab something, and considering half of it's about you, they'd probably be on the receiving end."

She shrugged. "But their opinions are insignificant, and they're not being paid for them, as the author of that ridiculous book is," she pointed out. "Pres, if you wanted girl help, all you'd have to do is ask me. That's what I'm here for. And also to laugh at you when you do stupid things." Then, she laughed at the book again.

Preston made a strange guttural grunt.

"But c'mon, what's this year going to be? I have something good, figured since this is the last time we can do this, it should be fun," Cammie said. She was talking, of course, about the annual exchange of dares Cammie and Preston set, to be completed sometime before the school year ended. Whoever completed the dare first won, and the loser had to pay up, generally in the form of booze and takeout.

The cornflower blue eyes of Preston narrowed mischievously as a smirk spread across his lips. "Right," Preston said slowly, "I almost forgot about that." Except he said it in a way that made it obvious he had not forgotten at all.

Cammie looked intrigued, and crossed her legs in anticipation. She had won the bet for the past four years, and was eager for another five hundred dollars worth of alcohol and pot stickers being delivered to her dorm room.

"You go first, though," Preston said.

Cammie sighed, but shook it off and told Preston solemnly, "Have sex with Macey."

Preston's smirk was wiped right off his face as soon as the words came out of her mouth. He sputtered, "M-Macey McHenry?" and he wiped his hands on his trousers, as if preemptively getting nervous.

The honeysuckle blonde rolled her eyes. "No, the other Macey you want to sleep with. Yes, McHenry."

"I do not want to sleep with her—" Preston tried to protest, but Cammie waved a bored hand, remarking, "Right, so, the picture of a girl in her bikini under your pillow _isn't_ Macey, and you _don't_ jack off to it every night?"

"She hates me!" Preston cried out wildly. "I'm not even imagining it anymore! She told me, I hate you."

"I think you're forgetting the point of this challenge—it has to be a challenge," Cammie said. "Anyway, you haven't even heard the conditions yet."

"Right, like I need it to be harder than it already is," Preston grumbled.

"Macey has to be 100% sober, 100% consenting, and she has to enjoy it," Cammie ticked off, smiling brightly at Preston's crumpled facial expression. "Not that you're the type of guy to Roofie a poor girl—"

"Macey, _poor—_ha,"Preston muttered.

"—but since you're already taking tips from a book that thinks pick-up lines can be successful, it's just a precaution." Preston continued to look like he was in pain. "So what's mine?"

The smirk returned suddenly, and Preston grinned broadly. "Well, you only have one condition, which is he has to say it and mean it," Preston began, and the side of Cammie's mouth twitched—she was anticipating the dare greatly, "and you're to make Zachary Goode fall in love with you."

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><p><strong>thoughts? tell me :)<strong>


	2. you were practicing a magic trick

**oh, you guys are all such sweeties :) thank you so much! i forgot to mention another change; townsend is the coveops teacher and solomon is the headmaster. sorry if it seems a bit fast moving towards the end - i was reading it over and i felt like i was a bit detail-heavy so i cut out a bit. also, i don't own gallagher girls, or superbad. **

**also, i know cammie is very different in this story. if she were still a chameleon, i don't think she would've accepted a dare like that - so as a heads up, she WILL drink, she WILL smoke, and she WILL curse. (to the anonymous reviewer, mostly everyone is 17)  
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><p><em><strong>[ - the dining hall; breakfast - ]<strong>_

Cammie was still incredulous as she and Preston settled down at their usual table, her hazel eyes traveling between Preston, who was whistling jovially and searching for his schedule with exuberance at the thought that he would definitely be winning this year, and all the tables in the dining hall, combing for a certain Zachary Goode.

Eventually, they landed on the door at the back of the dining hall, which lead out by the lake. Students were free to eat wherever they liked, and the dining hall was probably too mainstream for Zach or something—she could see his tall figure disappear behind the door as it shut with a small click.

Cammie shifted her gaze from the closed door back to her best friend, feeling a newfound sense of admiration for the scrawny, weedy kid she had known since birth. "You're..." Cammie trailed off, "genius. Evil, but genius. Where've you been hiding this talent for the past seventeen years?"

However, these compliments seemed to go straight over the messy head of Preston, because he had just caught sight of _his _side of the bet—tall, thin, and ethereal, Macey McHenry looked better than all of the try-hards sitting around her without make-up, or, for that matter, brushed hair. It probably had to do with the fact that she hadn't bought a new uniform since the eighth grade; her blouse clung to her body like a second skin, and if she hadn't been wearing opaque black tights, her skirt would've left little to the imagination.

The duo passed her table, and Preston started to hyperventilate a bit. "I can't do this, I mean, look at her, she's—she's like, like, Mila Kunis, and I'm standing here like, like, I dunno, McLovin'," he stuttered, throwing conspicuous glances over his shoulder. "Can we just say you win? I'd rather buy you a semester's worth of Uncle Zhang's Combination Platters than try and and and deal with, with _her_—"

"Pres, don't take any offense to this," Cammie said, her tone changing drastically from her previous remarks, "but grow a pair, and remember what _you're_ having _me_ do."

"Oh, like it's that difficult for you to get someone to love you, you just like, look at them and some shit happens and suddenly you have Jonas Hemsworth doing your homework and Dillon O'Haire leaving you flowers...What am I, Cam? I'm like Duckie. Or Ronald Weasley. I'm Velma, Cam, and do I really have double Languages today because life is against me and I want to die—"

Cammie flicked a bit of sausage at Preston. "Shut it, Preston, you're making my ears bleed. Now, I rarely say this, but since you're being a ridiculous, wimpy invertebrate who I don't want to be seen associating with, I'm going to have to instill some confidence in you." She took a breath. "Preston, you are not McLovin'. Well, actually, he didn't do too bad towards the end of the movie, but besides the point. You are Bruce Wayne, you are Clark Kent—"

"If you think talking about comic books is going to make me feel better, it's not," Preston grumbled. "In fact, I think I might've just felt worse. Because Macey doesn't sleep with guys who read comic books. Like me." He stabbed at his egg with vigor.

Cammie sighed, bored of Preston's antics. Her roommate wasn't as bad as Preston made her out to be—a bit aloof, but otherwise very nice. In fact, if Macey didn't despise Preston to the pits of hell and back, Cammie thought they'd make a lovely couple; that was part of the reason she had given him the dare in the first place.

Macey's table suddenly interrupted into laughter, and Preston scraped back his chair moodily. "Let's go to CoveOps already," he muttered, throwing his napkin onto his barely-touched plate. "I'm not hungry."

For a boy, Preston could be _such_ a woman sometimes.

**_[ - sublevel 3; first period - ]_**

"It's freezing," Preston chattered as the pair ambled down the hall, rubbing his hands together as his bookbag banged against Cammie's legs annoyingly. "C-can we just g-go back to being so-sophmores in sublevel one..."

"Have I told you to man up already today?" Cammie asked, her breath forming white clouds in front of her face. "There should really be a quota for how many times you can be a spineless little freak per day. I say zero." They reached the classroom door and Preston eagerly pressed his hand against the scanner. The door swung open, and warm air was expelled from the brightly-lit classroom.

"I'm just establishing this now; Edward Townsend is Jesus," Preston said gratefully, stepping inside the room. He stuck his head out when he realized his best friend wasn't following him. "Hey, are you coming?"

"I-— yeah, in a second," Cammie responded absentmindedly, as she spotted a petite brunette traipsing down the hall, one arm holding a few textbooks, the other holding a phone. "Hey, hey Tina!" Cammie called, jogging to meet her classmate.

Tina looked up from her phone momentarily. "Hi, Cammie," she said, with a very wide smile. "Did you hear? Courtney Bauer got pregnant over the summer, and the father is this Italian— "

"No, no," Cammie waved off. "I don't care about Courtney. I was wondering, um, you know Zachary Goode?"

Tina smirked. "Yeah, who doesn't?"

"Could you tell me about him?" Cammie asked, wondering how Tina was perceiving this. It was always ridiculously dangerous to talk to Tina Walters (if you thought normal gossip was bad, spy gossip was at least ten times worse), but Cammie had given up caring about what people thought years ago. Plus, she needed as much information as possible, and it's not like she'd just go up to Zach and ask him; he'd probably laugh and walk away.

The brunette shrugged, her amber eyes glinting. "Why not?" She said, looking up, thinking. "Well, nobody really knows about his parents. They died or went rogue, either way, he was dumped here four years ago under some very special circumstances— apparently Solomon had to fight hard to let him attend. He's a bit of an enigma..."

Cammie started to get impatient. She knew this already; it had been flying around Gallagher's rumor mill for about a month after he had arrived. "Uh, okay. What about like, more basic things. What does he do? Where does he go? Does he have a girlfriend?"

The instant those words came out of her mouth, she wished she could pull them back and swallow them. Tina's eyes had suddenly gone very bright and very narrow, and her lips curled. "Oh, I didn't realize..." she asserted. "Well, if it's those types of details you're looking for—"

"Don't read too much into it, really," Cammie cut off rapidly. "It's just—well, you see...Um, Macey likes him. You know, she's always had a thing for uh, those types. Don't you remember Grant?"

Tina smiled, and a pit formed in Cammie's stomach. "Oh, _of course,_" she lilted. "Sorry for assuming...I know _you_ have very _high_ standards..." Cammie ignored the implication; she figured if guys had the nerve to call out at her in the halls, they could very well make up stories. It wasn't like Tina was completely clean either. "Well, I do believe he hangs around the back of the school in between classes...he also goes to a lot of Baxter's dorm parties...but you should tell, ah, Macey, he's not really the shining-armor type. More of a black knight, really."

They stopped walking, and Cammie placed her hand on the scanner, and the door opened again, just as the shrill bell rang. "Thanks, TIna," Cammie managed, trying to sound as kind as possible as they separated.

An hour later, when Townsend's first lesson (because Townsend was the type to have six pages of notes and assign nine pages of homework on the first day) finished, Cammie apologized to Preston profusely as she sped out the door, promising to make it up to him as soon as she could.

Then, she started to follow Zachary Goode.

Not to her surprise, he went round to the back of the school, but not the nice, lake view side: the uglier, gray-er side, closer to the forest. Discarded, flimsy cardboard boxes were stacked upon each other, plastic cups and empty bottles littered the area.

He disappeared around a corner, and she slowly counted to ten, listening for the slightest sound— and then she heard it. The sound of a match against sandpaper. Cammie grinned to herself as she dug through her book bag; what she was looking for was wedged between her COW notebook and her iPod. She stepped around the corner.

Zach was leaning against the wall, eyes cast downward, looking pensive and bored at the same time. He hadn't moved at the sound of her oxfords against the cement, but no doubt he knew she was there. She took three careful, even steps toward him, feeling nervous but not knowing why. Finally, his eyes moved, acknowledging her presence.

"Do you have a light?" She asked, pulling a cigarette out of the box she was holding before stashing it back in her bag, leaving the slender paper cylinder between her index and middle finger. An amused look appeared on his face, as he looked down at the ground; among the trash was a still-smoking blackened match and a crumpled matchbox. "Well, that sucks."

She put the unlit cigarette in her mouth anyway, and Zach got the hint. Holding his own cigarette almost delicately, he let it meet the end of Cammie's cigarette, igniting it. He exhaled deeply, a stream of smoke swirling from between his lips.

Cammie inhaled slowly, then opened her mouth, wanting to introduce herself, when the bell rang, signaling second period. Zach gave her a fleeting look, before stepping away from the wall, turning, and striding away.

When she was sure he was out of earshot, Cammie turned to the stack of boxes grimly. "That went well," she muttered to it sarcastically, tossing her cigarette on the ground. "It went _fantastic_."

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><p><strong>do you like zach? :) tell me in a review.<strong>


	3. and my thoughts got rude

**this is mainly a expository chapter (as was the previous chapter), i'm still introducing all the characters and backgrounds. it's a bit tedious, and i'm sorry. but i'm glad you guys liked zach :) oh and you might not remember, but grant is macey's ex-boyfriend. and they're going to act like ex-boyfriend and girlfriend, unlike glee and gossip girl where they basically rotate around with each other, haha.  
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><p><em><strong>[ - the dining hall; lunch - ]<strong>_

"Maybe Townsend and Smith are conspiring together," Rebecca Baxter sighed, looking between her Countries of the World homework packet and the list of scenarios Townsend had handed out to them to complete by the next day. "Smith hates the CIA because they've been trying to catch him for years; maybe he's trying to get all the students to commit suicide so they can't recruit."

"Wait, I thought you had some sort of British blood brotherhood going on with Townsend?" Cammie asked, sitting down opposite the coffee-skinned, muscle-packed English girl. Preston plodded down into the seat next to her and began shoveling food into his mouth to make up for his lack of breakfast.

"Townsend is so tight, he'd form a blood brotherhood with his job before he formed one with any kind of human being," Bex muttered disdainfully, casting disgruntled looks towards the staff table up front. She flicked a glance towards Cammie's left. "Don't go starving yourself there, Preston."

Preston had been attempting to jam two slices of pizza into his mouth at once. "I 'ungry," he said defensively, cheese sticking to the side of his lip.

"You're disgusting, is what you are," a new voice joined in; Macey. She gracefully slid into the seat next to Bex. Preston's face fell and he closed his mouth as best he could and looked moodily at his knees, chewing in silence.

"What's the capital of Kastyan? Wait, is that a real country? It can't be, I've never heard of it," Bex said, looking at her homework incredulously. She checked the back of her textbook, and looked up, confused. "No way. Has he really started to make up countries? What the bloody hell for?"

Suddenly, a blond head appeared over Bex's shoulder. "Jesus, is that what I missed in C.O.W. today?" Grant Whitley remarked, peering at Bex's paper. A spontaneous, awkward silence fell over the table, and three pairs of eyes shifted to Macey, who had suddenly taken a high interest in her salad, poking at the baby greens with great strength and precision. Grant seemed to have sensed this too, because he had straightened back up uncharacteristically hastily and nervously. "Speaking of which, better go tell Smith why I wasn't there today. Think he'd buy me having food poisoning? Hopefully it won't be too bad. Dabney made us clean her quilts for something like six hours, right?"

Cammie wondered who Grant could've been talking to, when she looked up, and with a start, realized Zachary was there, too, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up above his elbows, looking bored as per usual as he waited on his friend. His eyes slowly meandered around the dining hall, and Cammie could've sworn he caught her eye, but wasn't sure, so she picked at a few fries, dipping them in ketchup and putting them in her mouth while concentrating on the salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the table.

At Grant's query, Zach stopped looking around, and shrugged. "Something like that, yeah."

"Maybe if you started to attend classes, you'd get less detentions," Bex suggested meekly, with a pseudo-motherly smile.

Grant was already backing away when he answered. "But if I did that, my reputation would be tarnished, and you know what would happen then...The balance of the universe would be disrupted, and the whole of the earth would be sucked into a black hole. All because of an insignificant class on a country I will never travel to." He flashed a charming, somewhat lopsided smile.

Bex made a rude hand gesture, which made Grant chuckle and turn.

Exactly three seconds after the two boys disappeared, Macey let her fork clatter to her plate. "So when did you become friends with them?" She asked, her voice a bit strained, her jaw tight.

Bex looked apologetic, but otherwise unfazed. "My parents came here for a conference with Solomon and a few other agents right after the holidays began, I decided I'd hang around. And you know Zach, he doesn't exactly have a place to go so Solomon let's him stay at the academy over summer, and Grant's dad was at the conference too, so we just wandered around did some shit for about three weeks, which was how long the conference was." She finished her little anecdote with a shrug. "They're pretty cool."

"Yeah," Macey murmured in a way that made it obvious she didn't find them very cool at all. "So, are they coming to your party tomorrow night?"

"Don't they always?" Bex asked. It was true; Macey had obviously been invited to every single party Bex had ever held, and when Grant arrived and they had gotten together, he had come, and by default, so had Zach.

"Wait, you're having a party?" Cammie said, surprised she hadn't known.

Bex frowned. "Yeah, didn't I tell you this morning?"

"Oh, no, Preston was having a meltdown over...his deviled egg," Cammie said, slipping Preston an amused look, which he reciprocated with a death glare. "Not fit for social situations. You know. But that's fantastic. Who else is going?"

"The usual suspects," Bex yawned, giving up on her homework and stuffing the packet in her bag. "And—oh, Christ. Tony, of all people, heard me telling Anna about it, and you know how he is, kinda, er—"

"—like a bloodsucking leech—" Cammie suggested helpfully.

"—but hopefully he realizes everyone thinks he's a skeeve and he'll throw himself off the North Tower," Bex finished. She looked around the table. "That's not too wishful, is it?"

"Can I bring the music?" Preston asked eagerly.

"_NO_," Macey, Bex, and Cammie said at once.

_**[ - main hall; before languages - ]**_

Cammie only realized Macey wasn't accompanying them, as she usually did, when they had already gotten back into the main hall. She dashed back in; Macey had acted weird for the rest of lunch period, even after Grant had left the vicinity.

"You okay?" Cammie asked, when she saw Macey leaning against their table, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Macey straightened and looked up. "Oh, yeah, fine," she mumbled unconvincingly. Then, more confidently, she said, "I actually wanted to talk to you."

"What about?" Cammie questioned, as they started walking out the dining hall. She sincerely hoped it wasn't about Grant. Macey had moped around for at least a month after they had broken up (strange because _she_ had dumped _him_) and Cammie wasn't all too good at relationships herself; despite rumors, in truth, she had had a grand total of two boyfriends. One was civilian, but they had fallen apart: the fact that she couldn't tell him who she was, what she did, or how she did it ended up being very frustrating. The other was a senior when she was a junior, he had an unbelievable superiority complex and Cammie couldn't have been happier to see him graduate, pretending she was very upset that they were separating but really long distance relationships weren't her thing. She hadn't talked to him since.

"Zach," Macey answered, and Cammie jumped a little and did all she could to not yelp.

"Of the -ary Goode fame?" Cammie confirmed.

Macey nodded. "When Grant and I were...well, I think I know him better than, you know, those seventh graders who leave him love notes and stuff, and whatever you'e doing with him—"

Cammie cut her off. "What? I've only spoken to him, like, never."

"Yeah, but I have the feeling you're going to try," Macey retorted, her cerulean eyes flashing. "Because I know you and Preston have this weird thing you do at the beginning of every year and you've never talked about him before today but before he was, you know, looking at you, so—"

"He was?"

"—obviously he made it look like he wasn't, but that's besides the point, Zach doesn't just go around looking at people, because that's kind of creepy, and I just need you to realize that he's not—" Macey stopped abruptly, searching for the right word to use. She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "He's not as..._resilient_ as you probably think he is."

"I—alright," Cammie said, not really understanding what Macey meant, only wanting to leave the dining hall, which had suddenly gotten very cold. "Of course. I'll keep his, um, resilience in mind."

Macey nodded again. "Yeah. Okay. That's really all." She hooked arms with Cammie and they began to traverse across the hall to the thick oak doors (which, Preston had proved in the seventh grade as his dare, was actually missile-proof). Once they were on the other side of the double doors, Macey returned back to normal. "Oh, God, double languages," she groaned, as they headed up the stairs. "Hopefully we don't have to get fluent in another Romantic language."

"Haven't we already learned them all?"

"I'm sure there are still some obscure dialects that were used by the bean-pickers of ancient Rome to communicate their water levels or something," Macey sighed, rolling her eyes.

The two girls looked at each other, then burst into laughter.

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><p><strong>don't worry, the next chapter has a lot more of zach (and preston's ridiculous antics) because it's the party :) also, i just wanted to repeat what i said in the last chapter: the ensemble here isn't as...innocent? clean? as the they are in the books. i'm sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but i think it makes everything so much more interesting :) please leave a review.<br>**


	4. as you talked and chewed

**zach was ridiculously fun to write :) he's more articulate than he was in books, mind you, but i'm trying to write him so he maintains his air of enigma? oh and thank you so much for your reviews :) and i'm sooooorry for the wait!**

**and i've decided to change 'tony' to dillon, so he's not an OC.  
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><p><em><strong>[ - macey &amp; cammie's dorm; before the party - ]<strong>_

"Preston, what honestly made you think green went with orange?" Cammie sighed, shaking her head at the global disaster that was her best friend. "Look at you. You're Times _freaking_ Square. Why do you even own an orange tie?" She stared at the skinny piece of fluorescent fabric hanging around his neck.

Macey overtly snorted as she read a magazine, her sharp eyes occasionally peeking over the edge to look at Preston's ridiculous get-up.

This caused Preston to spaz, and he ungracefully stuttered, "I— well—I mean—I dunno—it was the only tie I had that wasn't part of our uniform!" He started to chew on his lip until Cammie flicked his forehead. "And you know I have red-green colorblindness." This statement made Macey snicker again, and Preston blushed.

"Well, without the tie, I think it looks..." Cammie trailed off. "Um. Passable."

Macey remarked, "That's _one_ word for it." Preston blushed even more, and gave Cammie a pleading look, but Macey stopped paying attention to Preston and glanced at the gold watch around her slender wrist. "It's almost eight, should we go?"

Preston looked miserable.

**_[ - the 'abandoned' barn; the party - ]_**

Fact: Gallagher used to be an actual mansion, owned by the woman who invented the word 'femme fatale' - Gillian Gallagher.

Fallacy: Students at Gallagher actually care about the history of their school.

Fact: They do, however, care about the numerous secret passages (the one and only fornication location!), wine cellars (for all your quick-stashing needs), and abandoned barns (where all the good stuff happens). Sure, it's a bit unglamorous, especially considering every civilian within a hundred mile radius considers Gallagher to be full of lazy, bored rich kids, but they try and make with what they have. And if the only near-by, quiet, and rarely used facility on campus is an abandoned barn, then of course on-site parties would be held there.

In fact, if one plays music loud enough, drinks enough alcohol and brings minimal lighting, the abandoned barn almost looks nice.

Hey, spies have to be resourceful.

—

As expected, the second Cammie and Preston entered the barn, Preston turned to Cammie and remarked, "This music sucks." Macey had already left, so he had relaxed and was passing lots of judgments on the party. "Pop rock remixes haven't been cool since, well, ever."

"And you'd obviously know a lot about being cool, right, Preston?" Cammie asked.

"Screw you," Preston retorted maturely.

A huge shadow crossed their paths. "About time, Winters," Dillon said, his greasy voice causing the hairs on the back of Cammie's neck to stand. "How long have you been friends with Morgan, anyway?"

"Too long," Preston mumbled.

Dillon chuckled. "Can I get you a drink?" He asked, this time only speaking to Cammie.

"No," Cammie said. "But you can get out of my way." He laughed again, and graciously stepped off to the side, probably finding some other poor girl to harass. Cammie looked towards Preston. "Pres, alert the media, we've just found the missing link."

"I'd rather alert the media that I can see your new boyfriend helping himself to some punch," Preston grinned, nodding his head towards a few crates on the left side of the barn wall. A bowl and a stack of cups were sitting atop the wooden boxes. Preston waited, and when Cammie didn't reply, he said in an uncharacteristically confident manner, "You should go talk to him."

"I should, shouldn't I?" Cammie said thoughtfully. "And you should take off your shirt in front of Macey, she'd really appreciate that."

Macey had joined Zach at the punch bowl. Preston's eyes darkened with worry. "Or we could go and request some music?" Preston suggested, his voice growing higher with each word, even as Macey walked away, draining her entire punch cup.

Cammie smiled and patted Preston on the back. "I'm so going to win this year," she sighed, before meandering through a crowd of bodies away from Preston, leaving him spluttering and nervous. She strode over to the crates, where the air was incredibly breathable, and a slight breeze floated through a crack in the back door.

Then, she tried to think about how she would approach this. She could say something clever and funny, but she couldn't think of anything to say, and he had already noticed her; his posture was a little tenser than it had been a second ago. She could ask for a cup of the punch, but that was kind of stupid. Finally, Cammie decided to stop 'fluffing around', as her father would say, and take this bull by the horns.

Not that Zach was a bull with horns or anything.

"I'm Cameron," she introduced herself bluntly.

He cast her a sideways look. "I know," he said. He handed her a plastic cup filled with cold red liquid, and Cammie wasn't sure if he was waiting for a reply or not. "We've been in the same classes since the eighth grade."

"Right," she murmured. "So I suppose we can assume I know your name and move on to more intriguing conversation?"

He turned towards her. "That's a bit of an oxymoron," he remarked.

"Which part?"

"Intriguing conversation."

"What do you mean?"

"Conversation doesn't hold a lot of intrigue."

"You're not a big talker."

"We can talk."

There was a silence. Cammie took a sip of the punch and tried to observe Zach covertly, but there wasn't much to observe. He looked the same as usual, except in a gray jacket and jeans instead of the school uniform. He was looking at her expectantly, but all of the sudden she couldn't think of any 'intriguing' conversation topics. In the end, she settled with, "The weather was nice today."

There was another silence, but Zach's eyebrows knitted together a bit, and Cammie figured he was trying to figure out if she was joking or not. Finally, he remarked, "I gave you a full eighty-three seconds to let you deliberate over which subject you were going to induct into our conversation, and you settled with the weather?"

Cammie nodded. "Well, yeah," she replied, setting her red plastic cup down on a weary wooden crate and leaning against the rough wall behind her. "It's a simple psychological manipulation. You expect something from me but I know I can never meet up to those expectations, so I give you the exact opposite of what you think I'm aiming for. Now anything moderately interesting I have to say is going to impress you more than it would have, had I not brought up the weather."

"And your goal here was to impress me?" Zach asked, looking amused as he imitated her movements, setting down his cup and leaning against a thick pole and facing her, a hint of a smirk appearing on his lips.

Cammie grinned; he had asked a question. She answered, "To a certain extent." Then, with the smallest of smiles, "Would you consider me successful?"

The music, previously white noise in the background, seemed to grow louder as he made eye contact with her, his gray-green eyes trying to figure out what she was playing at, and how to play it back. Finally, after a few seconds that seemed like eras, he simply responded, "Very."

At this point, Cammie had to hand it to him. Nearly everything he said made her want to deliberate over her response for hours on end, but he said it in a way where she knew if she _did_ deliberate over her response for more than a few seconds, he would get bored, leave, and never speak to her again. Or something.

However, her only plan for that night had been to have a proper conversation with him, and her mission was done. Reluctantly breaking off the gaze his irises – which reminded her of sea storms – had been boring into her, she lowered her eyelids and looked down at the ground as she picked up her red plastic cup, still nearly full with punch, and straightened.

"Well," she said carefully, flicking a glance back over at Zach to see if he'd try to stop her from going, "I wouldn't want to press my luck, and I really love this song, so I'd best be leaving." She looked at him again, hoping he'd say something, but as expected, he didn't. He was impressed with her, not 'in love' her. (Yet.)

She leaves and does her best not to look back.

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><p><strong>that's zach :) please leave a review and tell me what you think of him, do you think we can reach 55?<strong>


	5. on the last of your pick and mix

**i got 22 reviews for the last chapter. you guys, you don't think it could have anything to do with zach, right? yeah, probably not. :)**

**but seriously. GIGANTIC THANK YOU.  
><strong>

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><p><em><strong>[ - first period; the next day - ]<strong>_

It was the general consensus at Gallagher Academy that Edward Townsend was something of a god. He was strict, gave ridiculous amounts of homework, and lectured constantly with numerous pop quizzes and practical tests, but there was a general authority in his voice (his English accent), the way he stood (being 6'5), and just how he taught. He spoke from experience. When he talked about the fundamentals of interrogation, everybody in the class could imagine him tearing some poor terrorist's brain apart as he made direct eye contact, showed superiority, and displayed the victim's lack of choice in the situation (textbook perfect).

He was also the worst teacher to be late for.

"Eight and a half minutes late, a uniform that doesn't adhere to the school dress code, and eating in a classroom? Tell me, Miss Morgan, why I shouldn't I be writing you up a detention slip as we speak?" Townsend asked, not looking up.

Cammie, who had been attempting to sneak in silently as Townsend was correcting papers at his desk, nearly choked on her Poptart. "Um," she began. "Because I am going to sit down right now and won't cause another disturbance in the classroom again?"

"Correct," Townsend said. Cammie made way to her usual table, but Townsend stopped her. "Oh, no, Miss Morgan, you're not working with Mr. Winters today. That would be far too easy for you. Or Miss McHenry," he added, as Cammie tried turning.

"Can you just tell me where you want me to sit?" Cammie growled impatiently. Then she stopped suddenly, slightly horrified, and prayed that Townsend wouldn't unleash the hounds, or whatever it was he did to students who dared disrespect him. She hastily attached "Um. Sir." to the end of her sentence.

"Mr. Goode would be adequate," Townsend said, and suddenly, Cammie understood why Preston had proclaimed that their CoveOps teacher was Jesus.

Trying not to let her glee show on her face, she nodded solemnly and shuffled towards the second row, where Zach was sitting, carefully studying his textbook, but Cammie had a feeling he was listening to every word that was being exchanged, just like the rest of the class.

She slid into the seat comfortably, and pulled out her textbook, just as Townsend started the lesson (Advanced Properties of Deceit). Both were completely silent as Townsend scrawled on the board, "Lying" with a haphazard underline.

"Anybody want to tell me the basic qualities an average, untrained or badly trained person would exhibit if they were lying?" Townsend asked.

Tina Walter's hand shot up in the air. "Pupil dilation."

"Correct," Townsend said, writing that under "Lying". "This is general involuntary, however, and rather coincidentally, pupil dilation doesn't always mean that person is lying. It also happens when one sees someone they're attracted to."

"That's probably happened to you before, yeah?" Grant said loudly. The class laughed.

Townsend almost smiled. "Detention for you," he replied. "Anything else?"

"Symptoms of anxiety," another voice piped up. "Sweat, nervousness, darting eyes, paranoia."

"Also correct," Townsend said, listing that underneath Tina's suggestion. "I'm glad you all paid attention in your pre-Covert Operations class in the seventh grade. Anything else?"

"Well," Townsend sighed. "That's most of them, which will lead in to what we're learning today. Lying. You've grown up with it. You know how to identify it. There are the classic, more widely-known behaviors that make it obvious when the other person is lying. But there are also smaller things you need to pay attention to. Tremors in the voice – even small ones – before adding a specific detail. Too much eye contact or absolute stillness of the body are also common. I'm not going to tell you all of them, they're in your textbook, but remember that when you think someone is lying, don't just pay attention to what they're saying. Pay attention to every aspect of them. When someone avoids the truth, their whole being is avoiding the truth, not just their face. Practice with your partners. Page twenty-eight. Ten minutes."

Townsend sat down.

Cammie turned towards Zach. "Hi," she said.

"Hi," he echoed.

"Fancy seeing you here," she stated. He didn't reply. She cleared her throat, and tried again. "So close to the front of the classroom. How will your reputation as Gallagher's rebel without a cause hold up?"

He smiled, a good sign in most situations. "You were eight minutes late, how will your reputation as Gallagher's golden girl hold up?" He replied easily. This was obviously his idea of entertainment.

Cammie's eyebrows shot up. "Golden girl?" She repeated, surprised. "How terrible." He almost smiled again, but instead of elaborating, he looked down at his textbook before looking back at her, and his message was clear. "Right. Yeah, let's get started." She opened her textbook in her lap. "Tell me something about yourself, Zachary."

He made eye contact with her. "I'm Zachary Goode, I'm seventeen, I attend Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Adults," he listed, leaning backwards in his chair and not taking his eyes off her.

Cammie gave him an unimpressed look. "You're also male and tall, correct me if I'm wrong," she deadpanned.

"Not that tall," Zach said.

"Pretty tall," Cammie argued.

"Really?" He asked, looking up as if he could see his height from that view. "No."

"Tall enough for it to be one of your defining qualities," Cammie said.

"I'm the shortest of my brothers," he stated, amused.

Cammie raised an eyebrow. "You have brothers?" She asked.

"Yeah." He didn't expand.

"How many?" Cammmie pressed. "Why don't they go here?"

"Two, and that's confidential," Zach replied, his voice going slightly sour. Cammie bit her lip, hoping she hadn't gone too far. "What about you?"

"I'm the only child of two only children," Cammie answered.

"You're lying," he observed.

"Guilty," Cammie admitted, impressed. Lying was one of her most refined skills. "My mom has a sister. But I try not to talk about my aunt around Townsend." Zach raised his eyebrows. "I'm a bit iffy on the story, but it's something like they had a thing and then she met this guy named Léon, who was French, and apparently even in contemporary times the English hate the French. So." She shrugged.

Zach looked remarkably entertained by the story, so Cammie plowed on. "Not as bad as my mom, though. She used to date Solomon, and then left him for my dad, who had zero background training and ranked higher, way higher. I try not to get into trouble a lot, just in case he asks to meet with my parents and the universe explodes."

"All your future boyfriends should be forewarned," Zach remarked. "Heartbreak is in the genes."

"Haha," Cammie said sarcastically. "Your turn."

Zach tilted his head back and exhaled a breath before reverting his gaze back at her. "What should I talk about?"

"Anything," Cammie shrugged.

He smirked. "The weather..." he trailed off, and she realized he was referring to their conversation last night. "Whoops, sorry, that's your thing. I have a question for you, actually. When did you start smoking?"

Cammie hesitated. It didn't really seem like one, but this question was extremely personal. She pressed her lips together, then sighed. "Last year, when I was sixteen," she admitted slowly, keeping her voice even. "Why do you ask?"

"You're lying," Zach noted, again. "Why?"

"Isn't that the point of the activity?" Cammie asked through clenched teeth, feeling uncomfortable.

He didn't reply as Townsend called for attention.

**_[ - __the dining hall; dinner - ]_**

Cammie spent the rest of the day in a slightly snappy mood, although it had brightened considerably when she entered the Dining Hall for dinner and found a mountain of roasted potatoes at the serving line. Meanwhile, Preston was telling her about his progress with Macey.

"I think she might've looked at me, it could've been the clock behind me, since it was almost the end of the period, but I'm not really sure," Preston said, piling slices of roast beef on his plate. "What do you think?"

"I think," Cammie replied. "At this rate, you'll be fucking her in the afterlife."

"Thoughtful," Preston remarked. "Calming. Inspirational. Thanks for that, Cam. What about Zach, how's he?"

Cammie smacked Preston's shoulder, and the bread roll he had been helping himself to flew out of his hand and landed in the clam chowder. "Don't say his name in public," Cammie groaned. "People could hear. _He_ could hear."

"He could hear that the second hottest girl in the school wants him to fall in love with her? The horror! He'll drop out, move to Genovia, and never have social interactions ever again!" Preston gasped, putting the lid on the clam chowder bowl so nobody would notice the lost roll floating around.

Cammie stared at her best friend, stunned. "Did you just make a Princess Diaries reference?" Cammie asked incredulously.

"Shit, did I?" Preston whispered, sounding horrified.

"When did you watch The Princess Diaries?" She questioned, widening her eyes.

"It was the only thing playing on the plane from DC to here," Preston protested. "Watching Princess Diaries was not a voluntary thing, Cam. Cam. Cam. Cam, stop walking away. Cam!"

"P, I'm not going to lie, I almost had to demote you from best friend to mere acquaintance for a second there," Cammie teased, grabbing a water bottle. "Anything else you'd like to confess, Preston, before you—"

She had to stop because she had run into something solid. And warm. And hopefully not an authority figure of some kind. "Cameron, can we talk?" Zach asked.

"Actually, Preston and I—" Cammie began.

"—oh look, I see Jonas, I might sit with him today," Preston said loudly, striding off in the completely opposite direction.

Cammie made a note to burn his hard-earned porn collection before looking up at Zach. "Sure, Zach, and to what do I owe the pleasure of an initiated conversation with you?" Cammie asked, although suddenly her entire mood brightened.

"Sorry about earlier, that was a really invasive question to ask," Zach apologized abruptly.

Cammie, had she been eating her potatoes, would've choked on them she was so surprised. "Shit, wow," she muttered. "Did I really act that bitchy? Because I got over that in like, third period. I'm not a grudgey person."

"You seemed uneasy," Zach said.

"Do I strike you as a grudgey person?" Cammie asked. This was genuinely worrying her. "I - I wasn't even looking for an apology."

"You don't, I just don't like hanging threads," he said. Then he added cryptically, "I've been apologizing all my life."

Cammie stared at him for a few seconds in disbelief. "Um, so I suppose you aren't going to elaborate on that either?" Cammie guessed, her heart pounding. Her plate almost slipped as her hands started to sweat.

"What?"

"I'm just being upfront, you know, so don't lose any sleep over this," Cammie replied. "You say you don't like hanging threads, or whatever, but kid, you are one huge hanging thread."

"Did you just call me 'kid'?" Zach asked, looking half amused and half confused.

"Did you just apologize to me over some flippant remark I made?" Cammie replied. "Seriously, Zach, if you're going to do the whole reserved, hot enigma thing, do it right, I mean, the whole hanging out in the back corners of the school thing is great, but this spontaneous 'sorry' completely threw me off track—"

"Look, I'm sorry for being sorry, then, I didn't realize you'd get so torn up about my reputation," Zach grinned, now looking fully amused. "I'll do my best to maintain my image, just for you."

"Yeah. You—you do that, Zachary," Cammie told him lamely as she realized she'd just had the most ridiculous conversation ever. "No more surprise apologies. Especially for things not worth apologizing for."

"Okay, I'll stay reserved, and enigmatic, what was the other one?" Zach asked.

"Dunno," Cammie lied.

"Of course you don't," Zach said.

"I'm going to eat now," Cammie concluded, turning away. "Oh, and if you ever call me Cameron again, I will pummel you," she warned, before walking towards her table.

The sound of his laughter rang in her ears.

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><p><strong>we can get to 80, right? get to 80 because this is the longest chapter so far? and because zach and cam talked twice? sweet.<strong>

**P.S. i put a small dream cast up on my profile. i quite like it, you should go check it out and tell me what you think!  
><strong>


	6. said you're mistaken if you're thinking

**pardon my french but SHIT, guys, do you know how many reviews i received for the last chapter? _31. 31 reviews! _for a single chapter! anyway, we reached 80 in one night (ahh!) so i tried to write this as quickly as possible, as usual, enjoy (30 reviews! thank you! :D)**

**to anonymous - thanks for your thoughts :) well, i thought the guy was pretty hot (he's a male model! no?) plus i always considered zach to be fifty percent looks and fifty percent charisma, so maybe my standards for his looks are lower, haha. also, this isn't for the actual books, but my story (so cammie's a bit prettier and macey's a bit tougher).  
><strong>

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><p><strong><em>[ - macey &amp; cammie's dorm; town day - ]<em>**

The next few weeks flew by in a meshed blur with very little conversation with Zach and very high amounts of homework, and before Cammie knew it, it was the end of September and the first Town Day at Gallagher Academy. Of course, Roseville, Virginia wasn't that great of a town - it was very cookie cutter, with very little to do, not to mention everybody stared at the freed Gallagher students like they all had four heads - but when one is confined to the most secure mansion in the northern hemisphere for the better part of the month, one learns to appreciate the little things.

"Okay, so I checked and rechecked and rechecked _again_ - so take note, Cam, I've checked _three times_ - and I've concluded that there's nothing decent to watch at the movie theater," Preston announced, his eyes glued to a small slip of paper in front of him as he barged into Cammie's dorm. "Unless you count _Superman_ as a movie—which of course, I don't, those things are always an abomination to—AHHHHH!"

"Is he alright?" Macey, who had been pulling on a shirt asked, looking between Cammie and Preston, who was now cowering and covering his eyes.

Cammie snorted. "Yeah, he's just not used to seeing bras outside of his mom's closet," Cammie said, smirking. "Preston, you can look, you melodramatic little speck."

Preston slowly uncovered his eyes. "Er, hey, Macey," he greeted, his voice ten times higher than usual.

Macey made a skeptical face. "Is my body really that scary, Preston?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I never said it was scary," Preston squeaked, as Cammie fought to keep in her laughter. She had to be supportive for her best friend. "Scary is definitely not the word I was looking for. So. Not. Scary."

"Okay, then what's the difference between a _bra_ and the _bathing suit_ you see me wear every summer?" Macey questioned, her voice dangerously calm. Preston mumbled something about lace and ribbons and Macey rolled her cerulean eyes. "Preston, you're seventeen, you should be over this type of shit."

Cammie couldn't hold in her giggles any longer and burst into laughter as Preston blanched.

"Come on, Pres, let's go watch Superman," Cammie snickered, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the dormitory. Once out of earshot, Cammie turned towards her friend. "On the bright side, I'd say you're making progress."

"Really?" Preston asked eagerly.

Cammie decided it was best not to answer as they walked downstairs towards the foyer of the mansion, ready to be checked off by the guard whose name nobody knew - they simply referred to him as the Bubblegum guard. There were rumors that he was under witness protection, but nobody had confirmed it so.

"Morgan, Winters," Bubblegum guard said, snapping his gum loudly and looking down at his clipboard. "You're good to go. Have fun."

"He scares me," Preston muttered as soon as they had left the stone walls of the academy.

"Everything scares you," Cammie replied. They walked a few more feet, until they heard another pair of footsteps. It turned out to be Zach, wearing a navy blue sweatshirt, striding back towards the mansion. He noticeably slowed when he looked up and saw Cammie. "Um, town's the other way," Cammie stated.

"Yeah," Zach said. "Not going to town."

"Where are you going, then?" Cammie asked, raising an eyebrow.

"To study," Zach lied, not covering it up very well. He wasn't making eye contact, he kept running his hand through his hair, and his voice made it very clear that he didn't want to stay for very long.

Confused, Cammie stepped towards the side to let him pass through. "Have fun studying, then," she said, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Have fun in town," Zach replied, before speedwalking away.

Cammie looked at Preston. "What d'you think's wrong with him?" She asked, looking between Zach's retreating figure and her skinny best friend. Preston shrugged. "He looked tense."

"He's not _my_ boyfriend," Preston said. "Anyway, isn't he like, whatever, James Dean? Everything's supposed to be wrong with him. Now do we really have to see Superman? I was thinking we could at least try and watch that new Matt Damon movie. Matt Damon is cool."

"Of course we're watching Superman," Cammie said. "He's super." Preston's face was unimpressive. "I'll buy you popcorn." Preston's face didn't change. "I'll buy you your ticket."

"I'll consider it," Preston grunted.

**_[ - abrams & abrams pharmacy; 2:30PM - ]_**

"I can't believe it was sold out," Preston repeated. "Is today's population so thick they actually pay to see things like Hollywood interpretations of classic literature?"

"You think comic books are classic literature?" Cammie asked skeptically. "Anyway, it's not sold out, we still have the showing at three."

""That's in thirty minutes, and I'm bored," Preston groaned. "What else is there to do? Why are we at a pharmacy, anyway? Is this some new addition to the How to Be Cool Handbook? Because I don't feel cool."

"That's because you're not," Cammie said. "Anyway, this place has the best ice cream in town."

"They only carry one flavor."

"But it's the best," Cammie pointed out, putting a hand on her hip. "So are you really going to dispute it? Two, please," she said to the guy at the counter. He handed her two gigantic cones dripping with vanilla ice cream.

"Anything else?" He asked.

"Actually, can his have rainbow sprinkles?" Cammie asked, gesturing towards Preston.

The cashier complied and Cammie handed the sprinkled ice cream to Preston. "That'll be four dollars even," the cashier said. Then, with a confident grin, he added, "I'm Keith, by the way."

Preston could be heard letting out a huge sigh.

"That's great, Keith," Cammie said, handing him a five dollar bill. "Keep the change."

"Can I go anywhere with you without having to wait while somebody tries to hit on you?" Preston grumbled, as Cammie took his sprinkled ice cream out of his hands and switched it for the plain one. "Also, why couldn't you ask for sprinkles yourself?"

"Because it wouldn't have annoyed you nearly as much," Cammie answered as they walked out of the pharmacy to the street corner. The stoplight flicked to WALK, and the friends set off across the street.

A car with tinted windows came careening down the street and nearly ran them over, but Preston, who had been looking both ways while crossing the street and not admiringly at his ice cream like Cammie had been pulled her out of the way onto the curb. It would've been alright, had Cammie not let of her ice cream.

"Fuck you, asshole!" She shouted after the black sports car. "And your stupid self-indulgent car!"

"The movie is in twenty minutes," Preston announced, because he had witnessed what had happened to people who made Cammie lose her ice cream before, and it was best to quit while she was still only verbally abusive.

Roseville was also a ridiculously small town, so the walk to the movies took about five uneventful minutes. Cammie held up her end of the promise and bought Preston's tickets and popcorn. As expected, Preston wouldn't shut up about what an abomination this movie was to the entire franchise and how it should be considered a separate entity altogether, so by the climax of the movie, Cammie had excused herself for a smoke, well away from Preston's indignant protests.

And that's when it happened.

Cammie had exited the theater and was surprised to see the sun was already setting, the sky turning violet at the horizon as the temperature grew cooler. A few people milled about, but she didn't really mind as she leaned against the rough wall of the cinema, lazily inhaling and exhaling clouds of smoke. When her cigarette shrunk to a stub, she heard footsteps around the corner.

Very familiar footsteps.

And then they were joined by a second set of rather unfamiliar footsteps, low greetings being exchanged. Cammie pressed her lips together and retracted her body slowly from the corner of the building, just in case Zach and whoever he was with could see her, and then focused her gaze on the bank next door to the cinema. The bank's mirrors were tinted and reflective, so she could see everything that was happening, but remained out of sight.

"Hey, Goode," a voice said, and Cammie instantly recognized it as Keith the Counter Guy's voice.

"Keith, how are you?" Zach's voice greeted, except it barely sounded like Zach's voice. It was quieter, but more coarse, and every syllable dripped with cold, superior arrogance; nothing she'd ever heard before.

"Not bad, still getting flak about you leaving," Keith answered. "Who would've guessed the little fish would make such a big impact on Blackthorne's entire system?" His intonation was neutral, but there were hints of condescension and perhaps a little hurt in his words.

"Can't be that bad," Zach said. There was the sound of a lighter being flicked on, and the air filled with the familiar smell of cigarette smoke.

"How would you know?" Keith questioned, almost angrily. "It's not like you've kept contact with anyone."

"And what's your basis for that accusation?" Zach asked calmly.

Keith laughed. "Well, last week, your dad decided to drop by and ask if I'd heard from you lately," he replied. "Apparently, he hadn't heard from his youngest son for a while. Three and a half years, a while. Kind of ironic, considering that was when you dropped out."

"I didn't drop out," Zach stated.

"Right, sorry, you switched to your fancy CIA academy, I forgot," Keith deadpanned. "The point is? You're acting like you want to be completely alienated from our side. And that's making everybody a bit nervous."

"Why?"

"Because your dad is kind of fucking scary and he's getting kind of fucking angry," Keith said.

"He should know better than anyone that I left for a reason. I'll come back when I come back," Zach objected. "Anyway, doesn't he have other things to worry about? He never seemed to have the time for me when I was around."

At this point, Cammie realized something. Apart from the different voice, Zach had been wearing a navy blue sweatshirt earlier, but now it had changed into a worn leather jacket. This sudden revelation made Cammie suddenly feel tense as she reviewed what Zach and his friend had been talking about. _Completely alienated from our side._ Zach was obviously someone, but Cammie wasn't sure she wanted to know who.

"Times have changed, little fish," Keith explained.

"Don't call me that," Zach snapped.

"I'm your best friend," Keith pointed out. "Or have you found a replacement for me, too? Trying to recreate your twisted idea of a perfect life? Is Solomon the father you wish you had? Is Gallagher the education you always wanted? Is the CIA who you work for, now?"

"I don't work for anybody," Zach responded.

"Or will work for, whatever," Keith sighed, exasperated. "You say you're over there for a reason, and it better be a fucking good one, otherwise you are fucking selfish. Nobody wants to live the type of life we do, Zach, so that's why we do it. There's no point in trying to pretend you weren't meant for it, because you were."

"That's not what I'm trying to do," Zach assured him.

"Great," Keith said, his voice changing back into the light-hearted tone. "It was good seeing you, man."

"Yeah," Zach muttered.

The feeling of uneasiness grew as Cammie watched Keith turn and traipsed in the opposite direction, as Zach stood there silently, his cigarette slowly burning down to an ashy nub. What had she just heard?

But before she could contemplate anything, she heard Zach's footsteps start up again, and when she took a glance at the bank window again, he was turning around the corner. Frantically, she tried to find somewhere to hide, but the entire area was basically flat. So instead, she rushed towards the door and opened it, then turned around so it would seem as if she had been exiting the theater, not trying to hide in it.

"Cameron?" Zach's voice asked, sounding surprised.

She managed a weak smile as she greeted him. "What did I tell you about calling me Cameron?" She said, her heart pounding. He didn't smile, but he did look amused. Her grin became more forced. "Nice jacket. Really selling the bad boy image now, aren't we?"

"What can I say, you inspired me," Zach replied easily. Cammie chuckled and looked down at the ground. The sun had completely set now; street lamps illuminated the plaza. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was watching a movie, except Preston wouldn't shut up about it, so I came outside," Cammie answered. That was pretty much true. She looked at her watch. "The movie's probably over."

"Were you planning on doing anything afterwards?" Zach asked.

Cammie was in such a state of shock it took her a few seconds to form a reply. Could it be possible that Zach was asking her on a date, or was he simply curious? "Er, no, not really," Cammie replied. "Why?"

Zach shrugged. "I was wondering how you were going to get back to the mansion," he stated.

"Probably the same way I came from the mansion," Cammie said. Zach raised his eyebrows, as if to ask, 'How?'. "By walking."

Zach nodded slowly. "I could drive you," he suggested.

"Could you?" Cammie asked.

"Well, I have a license, like a lot of people over the age of sixteen do," Zach informed her patiently.

"No, I meant, um," Cammie stammered. "I'm not really sure what I meant. But, I'm here with Preston, you know, and I don't know if he can walk back without having an anxiety attack—"

"Is he prone to those?" Zach asked.

"I was actually joking, but that's very thoughtful of you to ask," Cammie admitted. "But, thank you very much for your offer." She smiled, and then her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She pulled it out, and the screen lit up with a text message from Preston: **go w/o me, i'm arguing w/ movie manager about how theyre allowed to show such crappy films**.

"That's convenient," Cammie murmured to herself. She looked up at Zach. "So, where's your car parked?"

"In the parking lot," Zach answered.

"Who would've guessed."

"And I'm sorry about earlier," Zach said.

"More apologizing?" Cammie asked.

"I almost ran you over."

There was a pause. "That was you?" Cammie exclaimed. "You made me drop my ice cream! That ice cream was two dollars!" The pair came to a stop in front of the same black sports car with tinted windows. "But this is like, a really nice car."

"Yeah," Zach said.

"Who are you?" Cammie blurted out. Zach raised his eyebrows. Cammie coughed. "Er, I mean, like, you're a seventeen year-old driving a world-class vehicle. You're not in the mafia, are you?" She asked in a joking manner, even though she did, somewhere deep down, think something along those lines.

"Not the mafia," Zach stated, in a tone which didn't help at all.

"Or any other kind of criminal syndicate?" Cammie pressed, still using her joking tone.

Zach actually laughed, a very small chuckle. "Not that I'm aware of," he replied. He nodded towards the car. "Get in."

* * *

><p><strong>not the best place to stop, but this chapter is nearly 3,000 words, so it did the job. for the next chapter, would you like to hear about their car ride home or go on to the next daytime period? also, the plot is starting to pick up - there's going to be lots of zach/cam action now (as well as sore preston attempts). **

**that awkward moment when you post your new chapter late and nobody sees it. oh well!  
><strong>


	7. i haven't been caught before

**dear everybody, i'm SO, SO, SO SORRY for leaving this story (if you even remember it) for nine months. i'm a terrible person, but i've been caught up in school and life and whatnot, but that's not exactly and excuse for the lack of explanation. good news: i'm continuing, and hopefully finishing this.**

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><p><em><strong>[ - zach's car; still in town - ]<strong>_

"So," Cammie said aimlessly, drumming her fingers on her knee and looking around the inside of the car. It smelled new. She looked at Zach. "You're like, secretly super-rich? Is that it? Totally get it. Pretty awesome. I should've started talking to you earlier. Maybe you could've gotten me a TV for my birthday or something."

Zach did one of his almost-smiles again, where the corners of his mouth turn upwards, but he doesn't actually smile. "I stole it," he replied.

Cammie gaped.

He cast a glance towards her. "Isn't that what you want me to say?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, looking amused. "I also have plans to take over the world."

"Oh, shut up," Cammie scoffed. "Is this like a James Bond car? Can it turn into an airplane? Is the cigarette light actually a flamethrower? It is, right? That's awesome. Can you throw a flame at something?"

"It's not a flamethrower," Zach said. "But if you wish _really _hard, it can turn into an airplane."

"Sweet," Cammie grinned. "I've always wanted one of those."

"You're a very peculiar person," Zach remarked.

Cammie's eyebrows furrowed together; she looked down at her knees and tilted her head to one side. "What's that supposed to mean?" She asked, pursing her lips.

"It means, you're a very peculiar person," Zach repeated, smirking a little bit.

"I'm insulted," Cammie told him.

"It's not an insult," he shrugged.

They sat in silence for ninety-three seconds. Cammie looked out the car window, where dark shadows of trees that were losing their leaves flew by. Once in a while, a streetlight whizzed past, leaving a purple streak when she closed her eyes. She turned back to Zach, who was watching the road. Another forty-eight seconds passed. Then, "I've got it now."

Zach glanced at her.

"You won this car when you were part of the studio audience of Oprah," Cammie said. She nodded. "I'm right, right?"

Zach smiled - for real, this time - for a second. Then, he laughed. It was a soft laugh, genuine_._ His teeth were straight and white. He shook his head, still smiling, his eyes meeting Cammie's for a second before he laughed again. "That is exactly how I got this car," he answered, as they pulled into the academy's gravel driveway.

Cammie opened her door, swinging her long legs off the seat and getting out the car. "Thanks," she said, unable to think of something better to say, one hand on the car door. There was a pause. She grinned. "Tell Oprah I say hi."

_**[ - macey & cammie's dorm, night - ]**_

Macey barely looked up from her magazine when Cammie entered their dorm room, nearly skipping, as she asked, "What're you so happy about?"

"Nothing," Cammie replied as she bounced onto her bunk, almost convincing her friend, except her friend was _exceptionally_ good at identifying lies, despite transferring in to Gallagher during sophomore year, so Macey flipped a page in her magazine and looked up skeptically.

"Really," Macey deadpanned.

"The movie was really good," Cammie said.

"You suck at lying," Macey told her.

"Zach drove me back from town," Cammie blurted out, grinning broadly and hugging a pillow. Macey raised her eyebrows, closing her magazine and tossing it aside. "We talked."

Macey looked surprised. "So, what, you're like, really serious about him or something?"

Shrugging, Cammie buried herself under the covers, trying to hide her smile. "I dunno," she replied. Then, she suddenly shot up, remembering something. "But - oh my God, the weirdest thing happened -" She pushed her blankets aside and sat on her bed earnestly. Macey looked confused. "I left the theater for a smoke and Zach was there..." She told Macey about what she'd overheard, with Keith the Ice Cream Guy.

"That's suspicious," Macey frowned. "They were talking about his dad?"

"Yeah," Cammie nodded. "I didn't even know he had a family until then, I mean, why else would Solomon treat him like he's Annie the Orphan?"

"He never talks about his dad," the black-hair girl said. She rolled over and propped herself up on her elbows, facing her roommate. "I remember I tried to ask him about his parents once, he got all weird about it and left the room. You don't think he's like, part of a terrorist group or something? That sounds stupid, but it almost makes sense."

"It does, but what else could that whole thing have meant? It was freaky, he even _sounded_ different when he was talking to Keith," Cammie remembered. "It wasn't very nice."

Macey opened her mouth to reply, but the girls' dormitory door opened, and both girls turned towards the front of their room. A cell phone in one hand and a DVD of _Top Gun_ in the other, Grant stood in the doorway. Cammie sent a confused look towards Macey, who was suddenly reading her magazine again, even though her eyes were completely still.

"Hey," Grant greeted. There was a short pause, in which nobody replied to him. Grant swallowed. "Uh, Cam, you left your phone in Zach's car. He would've brought it over, but he's kinda busy right now, and I was on my way over here anyway, so here it is."

Cammie held out her hand, and Grant tossed it to her. "Thanks," she said.

"Well, see you around, then," Grant expressed. He left quickly.

In a deadened voice, Macey asked, "What's Bex's favorite movie, again?"

"Oh, Macey," Cammie began, shaking her head and biting her lip, looking worriedly at her friend. Macey glared at her with cold, blue eyes, and she shut up. "It's _Top Gun_, but just because Grant had it doesn't mean anything—"

"He's in the South Wing," Macey sighed. "Where the girls' dorms are." She grimaced, before looking at her watch. "Whatever. I'm going to sleep." Crawling under the covers, she turned away from Cammie. Her magazine fell to the ground, and after a few minutes of silence, Cammie swore she heard a sniff from the other side of the room.

Cammie sighed heavily and got ready for bed, too, even though it was barely eight-thirty. By the time she had turned out the light, the faint sounds of an action movie could be heard on the other side of the walls, occasionally accompanied by laughter.

**_[ - dining hall; breakfast - ]_**

"—and then he started yelling at me about causing disturbances in public, and I was like, _Superman_ is a disturbance to public, how can you show that crap because it probably causes cancer, and then the movie theater manager punched me, and that's how I have a black eye," Preston concluded. He did, in fact, have a black eye, but for some reason, Preston considered it a sign of his masculinity, and wouldn't go to the nurse.

"You're pathetic," Cammie told him.

"I'm passionate about my beliefs," Preston replied, scratching his black eye.

"You are absolutely pathetic," Cammie sighed, cutting up her bacon. "And thus, Judgment Day begins. Shall I remain friends with Preston? Or shall I kick him to the curb, and find a cooler best friend?"

Preston rolled his non-black eye, before shamelessly stealing Cammie's bacon. The bacon was halfway to his mouth before he dropped it on the table, his mouth left hanging open.

Cammie sighed. "Preston, you're useless. And now you've wasted a perfectly good piece of meat." Shaking her head in a disappointed manner, she stood to get some more bacon, but Preston tugged at her sleeve, his mouth still open, and pointed across the Dining Hall. Sighing again, Cammie turned, and her mouth dropped open a little too.

Macey had entered the Dining Hall. When Cammie had woken up, she had been awake already, and when Cammie had left for breakfast, Macey had still been in the dorm room - and it was easy to see why. Her hair was perfectly straight, shining and pushed over one shoulder. Her lips were slathered with red lipstick, her eyelashes looked longer than usual, and her eyes looked as blue as humanly wasn't wearing tights under her skirt today, and looking closely, one could've seen the faint outline of a lacy black bra sitting beneath her blouse.

Basically, she looked hot.

"Oh my God," Preston and Cammie muttered, in completely different tones. Cammie knew what had happened, and instantly started to feel bad for Grant, who, like the rest of the male population at Gallagher, had suddenly stopped whatever they had been doing half-way through, and was staring at Macey. Unlike the rest of the male population at Gallagher (Preston included), however, he looked almost _angry_.

"Does she look better than usual today?" Preston asked weakly, gingerly touching his black eye.

Cammie brushed hair out of her forehead. "Of course she does," she answered grimly. "She's looking for a new boyfriend. Or, at least, pretending to. She probably just wants to give Grant some serious shit, at most. I feel bad for him, personally."

"Oh," Preston squeaked. "Do you think—"

"No," Cammie said, before Preston could finish his question. "She won't sleep with you."

"But—"

"No."

* * *

><p><strong>i'm sorry (again), because this was a terrible chapter, but it does serve a purpose to the plot (in regards to the grantmacey relationship, and preston's bet). NEXT chapter: lots of zammie. i'll give you a hint about it if you review :)**


	8. as you bit into your strawberry lace

**_[ - on the way to the nurse's office; sixth period - ]_**

Pulling Preston along by the wrist, Cammie marched down the halls, aggravated. "I can't believe this! I leave you for _one_ period, and in that time, you manage to _infect_ your black eye?" she asked incredulously, shaking her head. "How do you even _infect_ a black eye? Pres, I'm like, not your mother."

"Well, my mother is a vapid socialite who can name more types of shoes than she can American states _and_ Presidents combined, which is super-ironic, because my dad happens to _be_ one of those Presidents," Preston retorted, scratching at his black eye, which was now a sickly yellowish-green color, and puffy. "So you should be glad that you're not her."

"I'm not."

"Or not, you don't _have_ to be," Preston yawned.

Cammie sighed as she pulled open the door to the nurse's office, dragging Preston in after her and forcing him to sit on one of the many stretchers lined up in the main ward. "Well, worst-case scenario, they have to remove your eye and cut off half your face," Cammie said comfortingly. "Best case scenario, full head amputation."

Preston gave her the finger.

She laughed, and patted his head, before turning and heading towards the nurse's office, knocking on her office door three times in quick succession. In her peripheral vision, she could see Preston gingerly touching his face; his black eye had swelled up so much, it had forced his eye closed. She was actually generally concerned about the state of his health.

"Yes, dear?" The nurse, who was in her early fifties, with short, curled hair, asked, opening the door just a bit

"I have a friend, he has an infected eye," Cammie told her, looking back at Preston, who was looking at his reflection in a stainless steel cotton swab holder. The nurse nodded curtly, then tried to closed the door, but not before Cammie stuck her leg out, trapping her foot. The nurse, whose name tag read Francine, scowled a bit. "Aren't you going to help him?"

"Well, yes, of course," Francine said. "In a few minutes."

She tried to close the door again, but Cammie's foot hadn't moved, so she couldn't. Cammie frowned, looking past the nurse's shoulder and into her office. There were no papers on her desk or anything, and it didn't look like she'd been doing anything. Confused, she crossed her arms over her chest. "But he's probably dying," Cammie said, not actually believing it, but using the extra time to peer into the office some more.

"I sincerely doubt that," the nurse informed her, but Cammie was distracted by a stainless steel cotton swab container, exactly like the one Preston had been checking himself out in, sitting on a counter in her office. In the reflection, she could see the warped outline of a person. A very familiar person, actually.

"Hm," Cammie said, and before the nurse could try and close the door again, she kicked it, and it swung back, revealing, for two seconds, Zach - sitting on a stretcher, looking up at the ceiling, _covered in blood and bruises_, with Solomon standing by. At the sound of the door banging against the wall, Zach's head turned slightly to face her, and the extent of his injuries became evident. A bleeding lip, cherry-red swollen patches, scraped cheeks. Her jaw dropped a bit and she let the door swing back, stepping backwards hastily. "You know, I can wait."

The door slammed shut.

"I think I'm getting a fever," Preston said faintly, feeling his forehead. Distracted, Cammie looked back at him, her eyebrows knitting together. Preston frowned. "Are you okay?"

"I - yeah, of course," Cammie replied, shaking her head. She brushed a piece of hair back behind her ear and looked around. "Well, the nurse is coming out soon, so you should be fine on your own until then - I, uh, I have homework to do and I should really go...do it."

"You don't do homework," Preston pointed out.

Cammie grinned. "Well, now will be a great time to start."

Then, she practically sprinted out of the nurse's office.

_**[ - after curfew - ]**_

You're here to check-up on Preston and do nothing else, Cammie told herself nearly eight hours later, as she carried the care package she'd made for her best friend during her free period towards the hospital ward. _And if you happen to accidentally forget which door is the exit and open the door to the private ward instead, then that's fine._

"Hey, Preston," Cammie whispered, dropping her care package on his face. "Wake up."

"Yargh," Preston replied, jolting himself awake. He pushed the care package off his face and squinted upwards towards Cammie, before picking up the care package and examining it suspiciously. "Oh my God. I'm still dreaming, aren't I?"

"What? Of course not," Cammie replied, feeling offended.

Groggily, Preston tore open the parcel. A package of jelly beans, three packs of Skittles, a box of cookies and two energy drinks fell into his lap. He stared at them for a second. "I really am dreaming. You're never this nice to me in real life."

"Of course I am!" Cammie said indignantly. "Don't make me give you a second black eye."

"Have you poisoned these?" Preston asked.

"Why would I -"

"Just asking," Preston shrugged, tearing open a pack of Skittles. He rubbed his eyes as he sat himself up on the bed. "What time is it, anyway?"

"About two in the morning," Cammie answered casually. Preston glared. Cammie frowned. "What?"

"You know I'm in my deepest cycle of sleep at two in the morning!" Preston accused, his mouth full of Skittles. "Now I'll never be able to get back to sleep. I knew this care package was suspicious. Why couldn't you have given it to me after dinner or something?"

His face suddenly darkened with realization.

"You didn't come here to give me a care package, did you," Preston sighed, as if dealing with an insolent child. "This was just a cover - a very weak one, I might add - in case you got caught while you creeped on Zach, isn't it?"

"I'm not _creeping_ on him," Camie said, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. Preston stared at her judgmentally. "Oh my God, eat your Skittles and go back to sleep."

"Fat chance, since you've woken me up during my deepest cycle of sleep," Preston retorted. He finished his candy, then lay back down on the bed. Two minutes later, he was snoring.

Cammie rolled her eyes and moved the contents of her care package from Preston's bed to the bedside table, before moving towards the private ward. The door was locked, but she had been prepared for that, so she took a bobby pin out of her hair and effortlessly picked it. Two seconds later, the door popped open, revealing a dim sliver of light. Cammie stuck her head inside, taking a sweeping look of the ward, before snapping back out and slamming the door shut.

She didn't even pause to see if the sound of the door had woken up the nurse as she jogged quickly out of the hospital ward back towards her dorm. Instead, her brain churned as it tried to combat the confusion that had appeared moments ago.

Because Zach wasn't bruised or battered, laying on the bed in the private ward.

In fact, he wasn't there at all.

The ward had been empty, the air crisp, and the sheets straightened, as if nobody had been in there at all.

**_[ - breakfast, the next day - ]_**

"And basically, I didn't get any studying done, because Tina _freaking_ Walters kept asking me these _stupid _questions that I'm pretty won't be on any CoveOps test, unless the curriculum spontaneously expands to include the benefits of conditioning your hair when you wash it," Macey grumbled, slamming her textbooks down on the breakfast table irritably. "That girl does not know how to take a hint. Or she chooses to ignore it."

"You should've just told her to go away," Cammie suggested, setting her plate of eggs and hashbrowns on to the table gently.

"I did," Macey sighed. "Several times. And she ignored me, and I couldn't punch her in the face because we had witnesses and I don't need another disciplinary action report on my record, and now I'm going to fail CoveOps."

"I can help you study!" Preston said brightly, grinning from ear to ear.

"You do realize the mid-term is today, right?" Macey asked, raising an eyebrow. "Like, after breakfast. It's kinda too late to study, with you or otherwise."

"But if it weren't, you would study with me?" Preston asked keenly.

Macey made a face, and Preston pressed his lips together hopelessly and dutifully walked away to help himself to his food. The second he disappeared, Macey turned on Cammie. "Okay, so what's the deal?"

"What's the what?" Cammie asked, looking up at her friend.

"The deal, Cam. You've been acting weird all morning. Although, considering you went to bed at two in the morning, that would make sense," Macey said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Nothing."

"You're kidding, right? There are maybe three people in the world who can tell when you're lying, and I happen to be one of them," Macey scoffed. "You barely listened to my story, and normally you jump at any chance to complain about Tina Walters. And you keep searching the Dining Hall for someone. Cam, I may have transferred during sophomore year, but I'm all caught up on this spy stuff now. I notice things."

Cammie sighed, shrugging. "I don't know. It's kind of weird."

"You know what's weird? The fact that we go to a spy school," Macey reminded.

Which was true.

Almost conspiratorially, Cammie leaned forward. "You have to promise not to tell anyone," Cammie began.

"Given."

Cammie paused, before telling Macey what she'd seen yesterday in the hospital ward. "And then he was just gone. And there's no way he could've healed that fast, because he looked like he'd, I don't know, fallen off a cliff or something. So either he was transferred, or -"

"Wait," Macey interrupted. "Zach. Zach Goode?"

"Yeah."

Macey frowned. "And he was gone when you checked on him again. And he was really beat up the first time you saw him. And you're sure it was Zach Goode."

"Yeah," Cammie answered, confused. "What?"

"Is it the same Zach Goode that looks like he maybe fell off a cliff into the land of the perfectly healthy and is currently walking towards this table as we speak?" Macey asked, looking behind Cammie, her cerulean blue eyes big and bright.

Cammie nearly fell off her seat trying to turn around, but she saw that Macey was right. It was Zach. He looked fine. In fact, he looked better than fine - he looked good. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Cammie exclaimed under her breath, getting out of her chair immediately and striding over to him. He had barely noticed her when she reached up and poked him under his eye, before examining him closely for his reaction.

There was a short pause. Then, "Ow."

"Aha! So you _are_ hurt," Cammie said triumphantly. "Oh, thank God I'm not crazy."

"Well, you did just poke me in the eye," Zach pointed out. "I wouldn't get to confident in your sanity just yet."

Cammie scrutinized him for a second narrowing her hazel eyes suspiciously. He stared back, a hint of confusion drifting across his face. Finally, Cammie said, "I don't get it."

"Neither do I," Zach agreed, nodding his head and looking more confused.

Cammie squinted. "Is this something we have to talk about? I think we have to talk about it," Cammie said, still looking at Zach.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Zach admitted truthfully.

"Are you a vampire? Do you have a twin?" Cammie asked, her mind running through the possibilities. "A new breed of superhuman? Did Dr. Fibs give you something? Don't accept anything from him, he's partially blind and sometimes mixes up water and hydrogen peroxide -"

Zach looked at her like she was crazy.

"Okay, I can spell it out for you. Yesterday, you looked like a pile of shi -"

Zach suddenly flinched and quickly cut her off, repeating, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Well, you didn't look _that_ bad, considering you were all -" Cammie began defensively, feeling like she'd accidentally insulted him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Zach repeated again, and in a slightly quieter voice, he added, "And neither should you."

Cammie blinked, her words faltering suddenly. Because as he said it, he looked directly at her, his eyelids cast downward. His eyelashes were long. His eyes were dark and gray. Then, without another word, he took his hands out of his pockets and pushed by her gently, his fingertips resting on the small of her back for a millisecond as he exited the Dining Hall.

* * *

><p><strong>end note: <strong>i have two things to tell you! first: i have an idea of where the main plot is going (zammie kiss by/in chapter 10!), but i don't have many ideas for specific events. if you want something to happen in the story, tell me in a review or PM and i'll try to work it in! second: i made a tumblr for gallagher girls! it's **blackthorne-boy . tumblr .** **com** and i'll review a story of yours if you follow (and tell me) because i haven't found any good stories recently :( sorry for the wait as usual, but thanks for reading!


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